


M is for Magpie

by starrylizard



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Gen, Hurt Charlie Davis, Hurt/Comfort, Magpies, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylizard/pseuds/starrylizard
Summary: . . .  then he was falling right over the rail, hands scrabbling at the splintered wood, but to no avail. The river suddenly rushed up to meet him.
Relationships: Lucien Blake & Charlie Davis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	M is for Magpie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whumpertrooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumpertrooper/gifts).



> This fic is for Whumpertrooper, in honour her alphabet Charlie whump, and my running joke that she needs to explain why Charlie hates magpies. It's not quite my usual style as I don't know the fandom well, but I hope you like it anyway. After all, what is fandom for if not tormenting our friends in fun and incredibly specific ways. 
> 
> Also written for a mix of two weekly prompts: [image of hands under water], Words: struggle+panic and Sentence: The surface never seemed so far before AND [image of a wooden bridge], Words: splinters+whimpers and Sentence: "Don't move!"

**M is for Magpie**

The moment Charlie re-entered the station after a quick tea break, Lawson was already on the move. He indicated with a hand gesture that Charlie should follow.

“Davis, no time to hang about this evening. We’ve got reports of a robbery in progress and another of a dead body on the bridge outside of town. The boys are already heading out to the robbery, I’ll drop you off to secure the scene of the body and wait for Dr Blake and then I’ll continue on to supervise at the robbery site.”

Charlie nodded seriously, walking briskly to keep up with his boss. While the robbery sounded more exciting, he honestly felt chuffed at the respect Lawson was showing him by trusting him to secure the scene of a dead body by himself. He’d been trying so hard to earn the man’s respect since he’d arrived in Ballarat. He felt like he was finally getting somewhere.

“Yes, Sir. Any further details on the body?” he asked as he ducked into the passenger side of Lawson’s vehicle and they took off at speed.

“The report was for a female body, found on the wooden Yarrowee river bridge, possibly an accident involving a push bike.” Lawson stated matter-of-factly. “There’s some traffic cones in the back and I’m sure Blake will give you a ride back once the body has been transported.”

Lawson slowed as they approached the bridge. Sure enough, there was a bicycle laid out and a woman’s unmoving body a short distance from it. Lawson parked, but left the engine running as both men hopped out. Charlie leaned down to check for a pulse, but it was clear they were far too late to find one. The body was cold and pale, once bright blue eyes now fixed and dilated. From the angle of her neck, it was fairly clear what the cause of death was likely to be.

Neither man recognised the woman.

“Can’t have come too far, Sir. On a push bike I mean.” Charlie commented.

“That’s true. I’ll get one of the boys to help you canvass the local houses, once they’re done with the robbery.”

Charlie nodded his thanks and Lawson made his way back to the car. He opened the boot, so Charlie could retrieve the traffic cones, and then he set off to the scene of the robbery.

Charlie watched the car’s tail lights disappear down the road and paused to yawn and rub at his face. It’d been a long day and it looked like his shift was unlikely to be over at the allotted time at this rate. As he placed the cones down the road to ensure no cars would accidentally disturb the body, he couldn’t help but wonder what had cause the poor lady to crash her bike so viciously. The bridge’s wooden slats were a little uneven, but there was nothing obvious to catch a tyre or make her swerve.

Coming back to the body, something shiny caught his eye. Just beyond the railing, there was something metallic glinting in the light from the sun that was just starting to set. Maybe an earring had been sent flying when she came off the bicycle.

Charlie carefully set his hat aside, then leant over the railing, holding on and bracing himself very carefully with his left hand, pushing up onto his toes as he used his right hand to reach for the errant silver object. Below him the river was gushing along, full to overflowing from ice and snow that had thawed a lot further upstream and the unseasonably good rains that had come this year.

There was a whoosh of air and flapping wings and something was suddenly pecking at his head. He swiped his right arm at it, as it came again. The strong whooshing and flapping was disorienting as, this time, the bird pecked and drew blood from his ear. His primal fear response had him throwing both hands up for protection, before he’d thought properly about what he was doing.

Charlie had the sudden thought that he now knew what had probably happened to the unfortunate cyclist, but then he felt himself sliding forward, the damn bird making yet another swooping run at him, as he was tipped forward, his feet leaving the surface of the bridge completely. . . and then he was falling right over the rail, hands scrabbling at the splintered wood, but to no avail. The river suddenly rushed up to meet him.

The water was like ice and knives as he tumbled and rolled, scraping and bumping along rocks and branches, weighed down by his clothes and dragged along by the current as his lungs screamed for air. The surface never seemed so far away before. If he could just stop moving and get his bearings long enough to come up for air. . .

Charlie suddenly had his wish granted, as he found himself in slower moving waters and pushed himself on instinct to the surface. He pulled in great gasping gulps of air. His eyes barely seemed to focus through the water that kept sloshing into his face, but he reached at any branch or rock that he passed trying to arrest his momentum.

Eventually the river did that for him. His foot snagged on something and he felt his knee pop painfully as he was jerked to a stop for a moment. As his foot slid loose again, he found himself pushed onto some rocks near a steep bank, their slimy cold surface felt like a safe harbour after his headlong journey. He pulled himself out on to his belly and just laid still for several moments, simply sucking in air and thanking whatever guardian angel had landed him here, for the most part in one piece, despite falling quite a distance into a rushing river.

He then hacked and coughed and vomited river water until there was definitely nothing left in his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment, just panting painful breaths.

His problem was now, he thought, that at least as far as he was aware, nobody knew he was even in trouble, and he had no idea how far the river had taken him. His uniform provided no warmth at all now that it was soaked through. With night rapidly closing in and the chill breeze passing right through the wet fabric, Charlie felt himself shivering uncontrollably.

He needed to get up, needed to move, to find help. He pushed up onto shaking arms. The shift, however, put pressure on his belly and he started to cough and choke again. When the coughing and retching finally subsided, he laid panting once again.

Pushing up once more onto his elbows, he tried to shift himself to his knees and that was a mistake. The knee he’d felt pop earlier suddenly lit up as if it were on fire, every nerve-ending alight. Charlie yelped and dropped back to his belly no longer even attempting to move. A darkness settled across his vision and he gave in to unconsciousness.

O0o0o0o

It had been a strange evening for Lucien Blake. A strange day too. He’d seen several of his regular patients in his office that morning, then rushed to a farm outside of town to attend a difficult birth (mother and baby now well), then back to see one of his regular patients who had ended up in the hospital after a road accident.

By the time he reached the bridge, he was hungry and a little grumpy, but mostly confused. The scene had been ringed with traffic cones, but there was no sign of Davis, as promised, or any of the other local police. Not even a police car. Shortly after Blake began looking at the body, the ambulance pulled up, standing by ready to take the body to the morgue at his direction.

The poor woman had clearly broken her neck in the fall. No obvious signs of foul play at work. There was a sudden flapping of wings and Blake ducked waving his hat at the viciously swooping creature. _Magpie_ , he thought.

“Maybe no signs of foul play, but definitely signs of _fowl_ play,” he spoke as he turned back to the body, still waving his hat around to keep the bird from getting its beak into him. “You poor thing. Not a particularly good reason to have your life cut short.”

As he watched the ambulance pull away, sun almost set, something shiny glinting near the railing caught Blake’s eye. As he strolled across to check it out another item caught his eye. A police hat was sitting on the railing of the bridge, caught by an errant nail or it surely would have blown free by now. He picked it up and flipped it over, noting the initials C.D. stencilled inside.

“Charlie. Now why would you just leave your hat out here? You must have been in a hurry.”

Forgetting about the shiny object that seemed out of his reach anyway, Blake dusted the hat off on his trousers, gathered up the police traffic cones and wandered back to his car. After missing lunch, he was very much looking forward to dinner and he was sure Charlie must have had an interesting day as well, to have been in such a hurry that he left both his hat and the traffic cones at the scene and the body unattended.

O0o0o0o

As Blake stepped through the front door and hung his coat up in the usual spot, Jean greeted him in the corridor. She had a disapproving look on her face that he had become quite accustomed to of late.

“Lucien, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you and Charlie were coming home for dinner at all.” She looked past him expectantly. “Isn’t Charlie with you?”

Blake paused, a sinking feeling suddenly upon him. “No, why would he be with me?”

“Mathew called, wondering whether you’d finished with the body on the bridge. Apparently, he was waiting for Charlie to return to the station and assumed you’d give him a ride.”

“I do apologise, Jean.” Blake started to put his hat and coat back on. “But I think I’ll be even later for dinner. Could you do me a favour and call Mathew. Tell him Charlie wasn’t on the scene when I arrived, but I found his hat. I think we may need a search party.”

O0o0o0o

Charlie awoke to the sound of police whistles and yelling.

“He’s here!” a deep voice called. “Down on the bank. I can see him. Get the doc.”

Charlie moaned as his fuzzy brain tried to comprehend what was going on. The moan caused him to cough and then wheeze, the movement from those caused everything else to suddenly remember to hurt. His knee in particular was suddenly a white-hot source of pain in what he realised was his otherwise very cold body.

His moan turned to a whimper as he opened his eyes to near blackness. A light filtered down through some bushes above him.

There was movement and the sound of someone scrambling down the bank, their form blocking the light for a moment, before there was a hand on his back gently shaking him. Another light was suddenly in his face and he scrunched his eyes closed on another whimper.

“Charlie. We got you. Don’t move just yet. Let me take a look at you.”

The doctor’s familiar and calming voice brought Charlie back to the present. He suddenly remembered falling into the river, being tossed and spun by the current. But he’d meant to get up and find help. Clearly that hadn’t occurred.

“Doc,” Charlie croaked out, but even that was enough to start him coughing again.

“You’re alright Charlie. You’re alright. Just breathe.”

When he could take a breath again, Charlie found himself now rolled onto his side, unsure how he got to that position. A comfortable bulk was behind his back, supporting him and a hand was patting his back in a soothing gesture. 

Spitting out the vile taste, Charlie drew a shallow breath and tried again. “Doc?”

“Yes, Charlie. I’m here.” Blake’s voice came from behind him, and Charlie gathered the Doc must be the thing holding him in place on his side right now; perhaps kneeling behind him.

There was a blanket pooled over his body. It wasn’t making much difference to how cold he was, but the soft fabric felt nice against his face. Blake’s fingers were warm where they rested against his neck.

“Ambulance is here, doc,” another voice came from further up the bank and Charlie recognised it as one of the more junior constables in the Ballarat station. “They’ve got a backboard thing we can use to get him up to the road.”

“Thank you,” Blake replied. “Can you tell me what hurts, Charlie?”

It took Charlie a moment to realise that Blake was talking to him again. His brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, his body so heavy with a want for sleep.

“Charlie?” the doc prompted again.

“’m so tired,” Charlie heard himself mumble, then remember the question. “My knee hurts. I caught it. . . caught it on something.”

Charlie noted the throbbing pain in his knee actually hurt a bit less since he was somehow rolled onto his side. He could only guess it’d taken pressure off it. He was sure he wasn’t badly hurt though. He could just walk up the bank with some help. No need for all the fuss. He just needed a minute.

“You’re not fine, Charlie. Just keep resting and we’ll do the work for you, okay?” The doctor’s voice, though soothing, sounded a little amused as well.

“Did I say that out loud?” Charlie wondered.

“Yes, Charlie. I take it you didn’t mean to say it out loud?” 

“No,” Charlie sighed.

He could feel Blake shifting, running hands over his sides and front. Now and then Charlie squirmed or shifted away from the touch, as the pressure revealed what he could only assume was a cut or bruise.

When the wandering hands began to feel around his knee, Charlie all but screamed as his vision blackened around the edges.  
  


“Steady, Charlie,” Blake’s hands had quickly moved back to Charlie’s shoulder and neck. “I won’t touch it again for now. Just take a slow breath. I think you’ve dislocated your knee.”

Charlie was panting against the pain and coughing from the panting which caused more pain, and one slow breath seemed easier said than done. But he tried to do as asked; he managed to pull a slower breath into his abused lungs and only gently coughed this time as he breathed it back out.

“That’s it, Charlie,” Blake encouraged. “Just like that. Slow breaths.”

Charlie felt comforted, yet terribly sheepish knowing that the other officers nearby could probably hear the paternal litany of words. It might've felt patronizing if he didn’t know for a fact that the doc meant it sincerely, and it really was helping a lot.

“All right, set it down here behind him and we can roll him on to his back.” 

Charlie tried to count the numerous torch lights flickering around him to determine how many people were now gathered near him. He felt the comforting warmth of the doc move away and he thought he may have whimpered though he tried to stop the sound. Blake’s hands remained though, holding him firmly in place as something hard was moved in along the length of his body.

“Steady now, Charlie. We’re going to roll you onto your back here.”

Charlie nodded, still concentrating on breathing and trying not to be overly embarrassed. The latter was basically impossible as he was practically surrounded by uniforms. There was some chatter about supporting him, and more hands landed on him from the front, someone placed a supporting hand under his knee and that’s when he started to panic slightly.

Lawson was there kneeling in front of him for a moment. “Just relax, Davis. They’re only helping.” Lawson’s blue eyes seemed to hold a tired empathy. No trace of his usual sternness, despite the gruffly spoken words.

“Yes, Sir,” Charlie answered.

He did try to relax, concentrating on his boss in front of him and the Doc’s voice giving instructions behind him. Though the movement was quick and relatively smooth, it still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. His mind must have gone wandering again, because the next minute he was being loaded into the ambulance. Blake slid in next to him as the door closed, and then the doc’s warm hand was tapping at his cold face. He could feel Blake’s other hand already gently at his wrist.

“You back with us, Charlie?” Blake asked. How Blake could sound so calm and concerned, yet almost gently teasing at the same time, always surprised Charlie.

Charlie simply nodded. Several blankets had been thrown over him at some point and the wind couldn’t get him anymore.

“Yeah, Doc. Sorry.” Charlie gave the doc a sheepish grin, then grimaced as the vehicle started to move and his aching body made him aware of every small jostle and bump.

“Just relax, Charlie. Not long now.”

With Blake’s gentle words of encouragement, Charlie tried his best to relax. Because he did feel safe now. People noticed he was missing and came out to find him. And the thought filled him with another kind of warmth. One that was distracting in a pleasant way, and one that didn’t come from the blankets or lack of wind, but from a sudden feeling that maybe he was beginning to belong here. 

Charlie gave a squeeze to the hand that had unobtrusively stayed after taking his pulse. He settled back in all his misery, and smiled.


End file.
